I've had my ass handed to me here and there as I've gone along, and this is how I've been trying to get back up, the best that I can.

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I want to get out, and through. The fog in my brain leaks out my mouth as I stutter and pause and it shackles my hands behind me. My existence dims as I can’t focus on the here and now. My eyes plead as I hope for someone to hear my soul.

I don’t know whether it was nature or nurture that got me into this. Whatever.

I want to be a nurse, I want to heal with my heart and hands.

I want to travel the country on a motorcycle, with naught but a backpack and a tent.

I want to come home to a trailer by the sea, with a cat.

I want love, both platonic and otherwise, but right now my plate is empty. I need more color options for my life’s canvas.